


Robin's Reckoning

by anonymousAlchemist, PhoDeNguyen



Series: Young Justice: Robin's Reckoning [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman: The Animated Series, Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Under the Red Hood, Young Justice (Cartoon), Young Justice (Comics)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-16
Updated: 2015-09-01
Packaged: 2018-04-14 21:32:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4580880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonymousAlchemist/pseuds/anonymousAlchemist, https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhoDeNguyen/pseuds/PhoDeNguyen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jason Todd of Earth-16 never died, but that doesn't mean that the Red Hood never lived. </p>
<p>This is a story about fake-murder, brainwashing, redemption, and family. Who says that you can't go home again?</p>
<p>(Or, in other words, this is the Red Hood storyline as set in the YJ universe with...some twists. Consider this a YJ season three continuation, with a heaping handful of batfamily shenanigans)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Homecoming: Clipped Wings

 

He wakes up, and before that moment there is no he, there is just the laugh track in his head and the rictus mask of a smile. There are flashes of pain and the muscle memory, jump, shoot, swing. There is the carrying out of orders (whose orders?).

He isn’t himself yet, but something has pierced through the layers of conditioning, the tidy boxes that he had locked himself into. Not the key, no, not the instrument that would let everything fall apart, free the prisoner from the cell and let him see sunlight, but the lockpick that reminds the prisoner that there is a world outside.

“Jason?” his enemy says, trembling disbelief in her voice.

His hand twitches on the trigger of his pistol. Eyes blink behind a fractured mask. A single blue iris peeks out.

“No?”

He tries to phrase it like a statement, but it comes out all wavering and upticked, a single question. He is not Jason?

The name reverberates around his skull. The gun drops from his hands.  
He has to regroup.

No.

He has to beat the enemy.

No.

He needs to find out who Jason is.

No.

He knows who Jason is.

The enemy is still just standing there, hands down, mouth agape. What is she waiting for?

“What are you waiting for, asshole?”

Cat-bitch snaps her out of her bemusement. She presses what is presumably a button on the side of her head and speaks into a communicator. Her voice is melodious.

“Oracle, could you record from my goggles please, because I think I’m fighting Master Todd right now, and this might be something Bruce wants to see, considering.”

He scowls, he doesn’t like it when his opponents ignore him. He shoots forward, ducking and grabbing the gun before swiping with his other fist. The broken mask falls off and crunches beneath his feet.

The enemy weaves around him like water, not even trying to hit him back. This infuriates him. A moment ago she had been giving as good as she got, the next she’s practically ignoring him.

“Pay. Attention. To. Me!”

She smirks, but her eyes are unnerved.

“I’m sorry, Jason darling, but I think your father wouldn’t be happy with me if I hurt you, Robin.”

A second lockpick. Click. Click. Tumblers falling into place.

Behind gritted teeth, he grinds out, “I’m the Red Hood, lady, and I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

_________

Barbara couldn’t believe her eyes.

She adjusted her thick-framed glasses as her gaze fixated upon a face she hadn’t seen in years.

“Get him to talk, Selina. Try to get him to come with you.”

“I’m the Red Hood, lady, and I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

Red Hood?

Click. Click. Tumblers falling into place.

Barbara ran searches across the vast banks of her state-of-the-art database, and finds articles on a Red Hood dating back to when boss was just starting out.

She began murmuring to herself.

“It says here...the Batman confronted a thief, who was trying to rob from a local sewage plant. The thief appeared to be wearing a suit with a bowtie and a red helmet. Said thief reportedly fell into a vat and was never...found?”

Click. A third lock opens.

She also stumbles upon a couple of articles about a Red Hood who began causing trouble a year after Jason disappeared.

Barbara’s face whitens. Her hand instinctively shoots down to her waist, as if doing so would change the course of the bullet that had left her paralyzed all those years ago.

Jason, what did that monster do to you?

Rapidly clicking, she pulls up the files that boss had compiled after Jason’s death. Cross-referencing those against the old newspaper articles and the image filtered in through Selina’s cameras. Oh god.

She leans forward into the microphone.

“Selina, get him out of there as soon as possible. I don’t think Jason ever died. I think something much worse happened to him.”

___________

Selina had always held a fondness for Jason. The second Robin knew Gotham’s underbelly the same way she did, and he always had a delighted mischief whenever he saw her. They understood each other, both of them Gotham’s children, Crime Alley kids.

She first met him when he was barely a teenager, running around after Batman, snarking and cracking jokes in the wake of the black cape. She had been surprised to see him then, surprised that Batman had taken on a second partner at all, much less another preteen boy. What was the man thinking!

But the boy was a surprisingly good fighter, a scrappy brawler whose form Bruce always despaired over. It reminded Selina of how she started out.

The man in the broken red mask is a scrappy brawler with terrible form and excellent aim.

Jason’s a good head taller than he was the last time she saw him, and he fights with increasing desperation, asking questions all the while. Conditioning breaking down; prior to saying his name, Jason had fought with a brutal efficiency.

“Why! Won’t! You! Fight! Me!” he screams. He always had a bit of a temper. Selina wrinkles her forehead.

“He’s not going to come willingly, Oracle. I’m going to have to knock him out, okay?”  
Go ahead, Selina, just get him out of there quick!

Dodging a gun to the side of her head, she grabs Jason and flips him over. He twists his torso to land on his feet, and proceeds to sweep Catwoman’s legs out from under her. Jason grabs his gun and aimed it for her head once more. Selina takes out her bolas and binds his hands with a resounding *clack*. Catching her breath, she loses sight of the lost bird for a second. All of a sudden, the wind is driven out of her lungs.

Behind me.

With a ferocity matched only by a select few other crime fighters, Catwoman drives her elbow back, twisting her hips for good measure. She feels soft flesh yield against bone, and turns around to see a crumpled Jason fall face forward.

"Sorry birdie, your wings are going to have to be clipped for a little longer."

His helmet smashes against the ground and shatters a little more, leaving a clearer view of the boy’s face. Selina bends down and inspects him. If Jason Todd had been left to grow and mature...he would look a lot like this young man she held before her.

She sighs, and pulls out a zip tie to cuff him.

“Oracle? I might need some help transporting the kid.”  
Confirmed. Sending Nightwing to your location. Nice job, Catwoman.  
“Oh, it was nothing, darling. And, meowwww, thanks for sending me that nice hunk of man."  
"Easy tiger. That's the collective superheroine man-fantasy. So hands off."  
"Sure, sure darling, I'll relax."

Her casual tone belies the slight furrow of her brow as she looks down at the boy. Selina wonders what went wrong, all those years ago.

______________

Dick couldn't believe his ears.

"Oracle, could you just say that one more time?"

"It's him Dick. We found Jason. Alive. I'm sending you Selina's coordinates now. Bring our boy home."

"Roger. I'm on my way."

A lithe and lightly muscled frame stands up and looks around. Ever since he had left the team, super powered crime and supervillains had almost become a thing of the past. Bludhaven was no Gotham. Sure there were the typical criminals and underworld scum, but no psychos. Always manageable. Sometimes even reasonable. The people of Bludhaven had begun to look up to him, and even the underbelly seemed to respect his authority.

Dick owns a small apartment in the middle of town next to the police station. It's where he works as a cop. The idea came to him while going undercover in GCPD for some mission back as Robin: the best way to hit crime were from two fronts: one within the law, and one slightly outside of it.

Working at the station also brings its share of perks. Such as a garage with state of the art police technology at his disposal.

Nightwing suits up and dashes out back.

A heavy burlap cloth tarpaulin masks a large object in a small area behind the complex.

Pulling it off, Dick reveals a sleek dark blue motorcycle with his personal icon on it. A sign of his separation from the Batman.

On another night, he would gleefully exclaim: "Nightcycle, engage! Roll out!"

But tonight was different. Tonight, everything changes. Again.

Nightwing solemnly boards the Night-cycle and revs the engines.

As the streets of Bludhaven blur in his peripherals, Dick's mind raced. Back to a simpler time. Back when he didn’t work alone, when there were two Robins running around Gotham after the Bat.

They don’t talk about the months when there were two Robins. Before Nightwing. Before Jason died.

“Hey Dick! I’ve got things handled over here!”  
“Jason, go easy on ‘em, you know you go off when there’s a crowd.”  
Ever since Bruce had given the okay that Jason was ready, Jason had proven to be a huge asset to the team. Even the Batman himself had to admit that the boy’s skill was impressive. He was a bit sloppy. But he was scrappier and had more guts than all of them. He showed immense promise. In another universe the two Robins might have butted heads, but here, their opposite fighting styles complimented each other. Whereas Dick handled the fights overhead, Jason’s grounded style let him cover the floor quickly.

The two Robins finished off the remaining thugs quickly. Now only the boss was still standing.  
Joker.  
Earlier that night, Dick had intercepted a radio signal on the police scanner frequency calling units to an abandoned warehouse off the docks of Gotham. Interesting chance to test out a new fighting formation.  
Dick called Jason and asked if he was interested. He knew the kid couldn’t turn down the opportunity to scrap.  
And now here they were.  
“So how should we do this, Robin?”  
“Well Robin, land-air? I’ll go for the head, you go for the legs.”  
“That’s hardly fair to him. He’s just one stupid clown. Let me take this one.”  
The adrenaline robbed Dick of his better judgement. Protocol demanded that Batman be alerted for the big-names. But sure, let the kid take down the Joker. Hadn’t that been his own rite of passage with the Team? What’s the worst that could happen? And if anything went wrong he’d just swoop in and rescue his adopted younger brother.

“Go for it Jason. Kick his ass.”

Grins.  
Laughter.  
Joy.  
All gone in a flash.  
The gas came faster than Jason could lunge.  
Dick’s vision blurred as he stumbled.

“Hey birdies! Now that there are two of you, I bet the old Bats bastard wouldn’t mind me taking one! Maybe make him a Joker junior! Or better! Who knows?! Hahahaahahahah”  
That cackle rang out in the back of Dick’s mind as he lost consciousness.  
“Dick! Save me! Robin! He’s got me, I can’t….I’m…”  
Jason’s voice faded. Dick tried to reach out and grab it, but it was already gone.

They found the “R” patch on his costume ripped off and bloodied later that night.

Laboratory analysis confirmed the blood was Jason’s.

 

“Dick, can you hear me?”  
Barbara’s voice shook Nightwing out of his reverie.  
“Babs, have you told Bruce about this?”  
...Not yet. I wanted confirmation from at least another source before bringing this to his attention.  
“Alright, where are we taking him, then?”  
The Clocktower, I think. Can you get into Gotham that quickly.  
“For you, babe, anything.”

She laughs, and he smiles, the tension leaching out of the conversation slightly. He glances at the GPS and the address that Barbara had plugged in remotely.

“I can be in Gotham in, oh, twenty minutes, if I push it.”  
“Copy that, ‘Wing.”

Oracle terminates the connection, and Nightwing speeds into the night, toward Gotham. Home.

(Once a Gothamite, always a Gothamite.)

_______

Dick parks in the shadow of a looming dumpster, cutting the engine abruptly. He dismounts, and, after rolling his shoulders, he grabs hold of the fire escape ladder and begins to scale the building. Once on top, he takes a running start and leaps toward the next building.

He grins without thinking about it. It’s been awhile since he’s traveled Gotham’s rooftops, but he hasn’t forgotten them, and they haven’t forgotten him. Some of his best memories were made up here, swinging from a grappling hook or leaping from stone to stone.

Being back up here, he almost forgets for a moment what he’s here to do. But he turns a corner and there they are, Selina and maybe-Jason, on one of the medium-tall buildings edging in on Crime Alley.

The Red Hood is slumped against the side of a bordering building, his namesake cracked open like a watermelon rind. Selina stands above him, carefully nonchalant. She waves languidly over at him.

“Nightwing, darling, over here.”

“Hey Selina, thanks for watching him.”

Dick bounds over, but slows his pace as he approaches. He’s not exactly scared, but he’s wary. What if it’s not Jason? Nightwing has lost too many comrades, friends, over the years, and to have hope dangled in his face like this just to have it crushed, would be cruel.

And what does he do if it is Jason?

The questions pile up against each other with every step he takes.

“Is he secured?”  
“Zip tied, but that won’t last long once he wakes up. You’d best check now.”  
“Alright.”

Nightwing leans down and carefully tilts the man’s face upward. He draws a stuttering breath. The resemblance is perfect. Behind the mask is his younger brother. Well, not so young anymore, but still.

Nightwing?  
Barbara’s voice flickers into his ear.  
“Yeah?” he says hoarsely.  
Can you make visual confirmation that the Red Hood is Jason Todd?  
Dick takes a deep breath, and gently lets go of Jason’s head.

“It’s him. It’s Jason.”

________  
“Selina, I’ll take him from here.”  
“Aww, don’t I get some kind of reward for helping you out?”  
Catwoman slithers her arm down the nape of Nightwing’s waist.  
“Umm.. the usual?” Nightwing stutters.  
Catwoman smirked.  
“I’ll take that.”  
After giving him a firm squeeze on both his cheeks, the woman known as Selina Kyle to the world and as Catwoman to the rest, leapt off the rooftop and disappeared into the moonlight.

Dick grimaced.  
“Did she ask for the usual, Dick?”  
“Yeah Babs, sorry about that.”  
“It’s okay. Whatever it takes to get the mission done. Isn’t that what boss would have wanted?”  
It sounded like she was grinning on the other side of the headset.  
“I don’t think he was talking about that, but I’ll make sure Jason gets to the cave safely. I think it’s time for a family reunion.”

 

__________  
Where am I?  
Jason’s head ached as this question bounced in and out of each of his ear canals and off the backboard of his brain. He looked down.

Hands zip-tied.

Right.

That Cat-bitch or whatever had really laid the hurt on him. He’d never seen moves like that.

Or have I?

Aches again. Questions and memories bouncing off of mirrors in his mind.

Jason’s neck cracked as he peered into a black face mask covering a very well defined face.

“Nice cheekbones, “brother.” Mind if I take a crack at ‘em?” Jason spat.

The mask moved back as it revealed a large, muscled body.

“Do you remember me?”

“Like hell I do. I don’t even remember the last five years of my life!”

“Well, I can help you get those memories back, Jason.”

The man had a voice that seemed more boyish if anything.

“Who are you? And how do you know me?” Jason queried. He wasn’t going anywhere soon, might as well get answers.

“I can’t tell you that out here. It’s not safe on these rooftops. We’ve made a lot of enemies these past few years Jason, and they won’t be happy to know that you’re back.”

Jason grumbled. Why couldn’t anyone him a straight answer around here?

“Well you have me now. Where are we going?”

The man looked up to the sky as a dark shape appeared out of the night sky. A giant bat...plane?

“We’re going home Jason. It’s time for you to meet the family.”

“Just peachy. I’m surrounded by lunatics.” Jason mumbled as he got up to his feet.

The plane hung in the air for a few minutes before a dark hooded shape rappelled down from it.

Jason stared.

What was this feeling?

Fear? Anticipation?

Pain?

He felt a sharp sting on the side of his head as the figure moved closer.

Two white eyes lit up as the figure settled in front of him. As it stepped into the moonlight, Jason saw what he could only have described then as the incarnation of vengeance.

Eyes as hard as the toughest of granite.  
A sharp twist of the mouth.  
And a looming demeanor that told him this was no ordinary man. This was a force of nature.

And all of this broke when it stood face to face with him.

The white holes that served as eyes widened.

“No...it can’t be.”

A gasp. This voice sounded aged. Tired.

A glove touched the side of Jason’s face. He didn’t pull back. The gesture oddly enough felt warm. It felt...paternal. Caring.

“Jason..do you recognize me?”

He sounded strained. On the one hand, Jason thinks this man was used to interrogating criminals with this kind of voice. On the other hand, the man’s voice also sounded desperate and hopeful. It made for a very odd combination. Why did he want to tell this man the truth? He speaks without thinking.

“I-I..think I do. You feel familiar.”

The shadow-man smiled, and the Batman’s face is transformed.

“Let’s get you home.”

“Wait..why? Why should I come? How do you know me? I have so many questions.” Jason pulled back.

“We’ve got all your answers. All of them.” The masked man smiled confidently.

He turned to the other masked man.

“Dick.”

“Yes sir?”

“Go debrief with Oracle and head over to the manor.”

The other man grinned.

“Sounds good. I’ll see you in a bit, boss.”

Jason smiled a little as he slumped forwards into the dark figure’s arms.

_I’m going home...I’m going home._

(As he closed his eyes, head ringing, he realized that he was thinking of himself as Jason.)

___________

Batman, no, Bruce, gathers his son in his arms. The wayward Robin is taller, heavier, now, but that’s no trouble for the Dark Knight.

He turns and walks back to the Batplane (damn Dick and his childhood penchant for nicknames). Nightwing trails behind him, murmuring into his headset, talking with Oracle.

(Bruce can’t think about how he thought the boy was dead, he should have looked harder, longer, he should have stopped the boys from going on patrol, he should have-stop. Later.)

The door hisses faintly as it opens, and Batman awkwardly maneuvers Jason into the plane, setting him in a seat and buckling the straps.

Jason watches him dazedly through half-lidded eyes, awkwardly fidgeting. He looks straight at Bruce. Most of his earlier lucidity is gone.

“M’head hurts,” he says, frankly.

Nightwing leans over to peer at Jason, carefully extricating the remains of the helmet from his head.

“You probably have a concussion, Jay. Just sit tight until we get back to the Cave, alright?”

Jason nods vaguely.

Bruce frowns a little.

“You couldn’t have subdued him without head trauma?”

“Don’t look at me, look at Catwoman. She got him down, I’m just the cavalry.”

“Hm.”

Nightwing shifts from foot to foot.

“I’m going to head out, my ‘cycle is parked a couple blocks over. You gonna be alright here, boss?”

Batman just looks at him. Nightwing smiles sheepishly.

“Right. Yeah, I’ll see you back at the Cave.”

Bruce nods. As Nightwing turns to walk away, Bruce says quietly,  
“Good work, Nightwing.”  
Dick laughs.  
“No problem, boss.”

He closes the door on his way out, and Bruce goes over to sit down heavily in the pilot’s chair.

“Let’s go home, Jason.”

Halfway across Gotham Bruce presses the button that calls the Cave. After a single ring, a crisp English voice rings out.

“Yes, Master Bruce?”  
“Is Tim there?”  
“Master Timothy is sleeping over, having stayed over a bit too late to be driving home. May I ask why you’re asking?”  
“We’ve got company, Alfred. A wayward bird, more precisely. We may as well introduce Tim, if he’s there.”  
“Master Bruce?”  
“Could you get a few grilled cheeses ready? It’s easier to explain in person. Oh, and Nightwing’s home for the night as well.”  
“Hmm. Very well, please be prompt returning then, as I expect a full explanation when you return.”  
“Of course.”

The line beeps out. The plane streaks silently across Gotham, toward Wayne Manor.


	2. Fight or Flight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jason learns things and people have feelings.

Jason wakes up and doesn’t know where he is. Again. What else is new. His hands immediately jump to the twin handguns that should be in their holsters, but his hands just grab soft fabric. He blinks his eyes open to face a softly shadowed ceiling. He tilts his head up and around.

He’s lying on a memory foam mattress that his body positively sinks into. A duvet cover is pulled up to his chin and when he pulls out his arm to inspect, he realizes that he’s wearing pajamas that, while fantastic quality, are just a bit too big for him. Moonlight streams through a window where the blinds have been half closed.

Somebody has left a glass of water and two tablets on the bedside table, inches from his head, along with a note. He props himself up on his elbow and picks the note up to read.

 

_Hey Jay,_

_Hope you slept well, if your head still hurts, take these or call for Alfred or me if it’s really bad. Al says you’ve probably got a concussion._

_Glad you’re home, we’ll figure the rest out later._

_Dick._

The note makes him want to scream. It’s too nice. He might be Jason (and for that matter, when did he start thinking himself as Jason?), but he isn’t their Jason, he isn’t the boy who was swept out into the night, he isn’t their son, their partner, their brother. No, that boy is dead. Jason is a weapon. And how dare they forget him.

For a moment he is filled with a white, mindless rage. He grits his teeth and crumples the note in his fist. He forces himself to look around the room in an attempt to distract himself. (He doesn’t remember what anger felt like. He doesn’t know if he likes it.)

The room is like a half remembered dream. He feels like he should know it, but he doesn’t, and each angle of it is familiar and utterly foreign. A desk, covered, with schoolwork, an overflowing bookcase, a sweatshirt slung casually over a desk chair. This can’t be his stuff. (He is not their Jason.)

He opens his fist again and looks down at the message.

The note is too nice. He feels a sudden urge to go find Dick (The man in blue and black?) and give him a hug. He bites his lip. If he’s feeling sentimental, it’s time to go. These aren’t his pajamas, this isn’t his room, and this isn’t his family. (Why does this all feel so familiar?)

Weapons, clothes, transportation. Unlikely that he’ll find weapons in this room, so clothes first.

He untangles himself from his sheets and pads silently over to the closet, ignoring the slight nausea and dizziness. Definitely concussed. There’s got to be at least shoes, or something, in there, at least.

Nope. Nothing that would fit. Everything in the closet was made for a boy a foot shorter and two shoe sizes smaller. Minor setback. Weaponry and transportation.

He could leave through the window, but that’s not ideal, considering he’s missing footwear and his guns, not to mention he has no idea where he is. Better to find the garage, hotwire a car, and leave, ditching the car as soon as he finds a replacement vehicle. Possibly picking up a weapon, ideally a gun, before leaving.

Plan in place, he heads toward the door, ignoring the drink and pills.

Unbeknownst to him, a camera subtly placed in the woodwork of his closet swivels to watch him.

 

______

 

Jason’s plan is ruined the moment he steps through the door. Specifically, it’s ruined the moment he hits a tripwire. No alarm sounds, there’s no sudden swoop of the Bat or Birds, but the second that Jason hits the tripwire with his bare ankle, he knows his plan is toast.

If they’re monitoring his movements, someone is sure to come by, at least to check on him, in the next few minutes.

He’s got a choice now. Does he run, hightailing it out and attempting to escape even though he’s probably definitely going to be chased? Or does he pretend he was going to take a piss?

The smart choice would be the latter.

Jason breaks into a run.

 

_______

 

Dick closed the door to his old room.

  
Nothing’s really changed has it?

He touched the walls, brushed the curtains, sat down on the bed.

Signs of his old life scattered around like he only left yesterday.

 

“Master Bruce didn’t want this room to be touched you know.”

  
A familiar voice echoed from the threshold.

Alfred made his way over to the Dick. He ran his hands over the linen sheets covering the king-sized bed and sighed.

“Although he’d never say it, he wanted to be able to open the door at any time and remember what it was like to have you here with us.”

“Alfred...I needed to leave. Not just to give Bruce space but...to become my own man. I thought me still being Robin would dishonor Jason’s memory.”

A sigh left the old butler’s lips.

“Master Grayson, if I may, I don’t believe that Master Bruce feels...or dare I say felt that way at all. In fact, he knew of yours and Master Todd’s escapades that night.  I stood by his side as he smiled and said to me ‘I think they can handle this on their own, Alfred. Dick’s about to become the leader of the team, and I’m letting Jason take his first stab at being a member of the Young Justice. This will be a good test.’ He blames himself for this as much as you do.”

Dick stood up. Taken aback.

“He..he knew? All this time? Why didn’t...why didn’t he say anything?”

“Master Bruce knows you were going to stop being Robin eventually. You had grown up too much. He didn’t have much left to teach you.”

“So that means...that when I left.”

“When you left because of Master Todd, Master Bruce felt that he had lost two sons.”

“I didn’t….I never knew he felt that way, Alfred. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s because he didn’t want you to know m’boy. But I hope you understand that Master Bruce is only human. Seeing his two sons back again..under one roof. I have not seen him this happy since Master Tim took up your mantle.”

“I-It’s nice.”  Dick said softly.

“What was that Master Grayson?” Alfred queried.

 

Dick gleamed at him with that big boyish smile from years ago. A smile that Alfred hoped would never disappear.

“Our family’s back together. And it’s getting bigger. We’re all back together again.”

Alfred couldn’t help but grin himself.

Ah the optimism of youth. At least it wasn’t totally misplaced.

“Yes Master Grayson, all back together again.”

A beep sounds from Dick’s watch, and he glances down.

“Huh, looks like Jason’s leaving his room.”

  
_____________

  
  


Jason hurtles down the hallway, bare feet slamming on the hardwood floors. It doesn’t matter who hears him, the element of surprise has already been lost. Speed is crucial here. Transportation, necessary.

He doesn’t know where he’s going but his legs carry him effortlessly through the mansion, these are steps he’s treaded a thousand times before. Muscle memory. He bites his lip to stop the nausea. It doesn’t help, but he runs through the dizziness anyway. He’s got to go.

His plans are foiled for the second time when, preoccupied by movement, he slams into another body.

“Oof!”

Jason almost falls on his face but strong hands grip his biceps and stabilize him. He’s maneuvered into standing, by an old man wearing a suit. Next to him, Nightwing, now clad in old sweatpants and a tee-shirt, laughs.

“Really, Master Jason, how many times have I told you not to run in the hallways?”

“Sorry Alfred, won’t happen again.” Jason’s mouth moves mechanically and the apology falls out automatically.

 

It’s terrifying, these old patterns he’s falling into, because they’re not his old patterns, he has no link between these habits and the person he is today. These are the habits of a ghost, and he can’t break out of them. He doesn’t even know what they are.

Alfred smiles at him, a faint uptick of the lip.

“And how many times have I heard that apology, hm?”

Jason scowls, but it comes out as more of a pout.

“Sorry, Alfred.”

“It’s quite alright, Master Jason, just please be more careful.”

Nightwing snickers, and steps forward carefully ruffles Jason’s hair, angling his body so that Jason can’t walk past the two men without knocking at least one of them over. And while Jason has no qualms about pushing Nightwing, he doubts he can subdue him while he’s still a little unsteady.

The man grabs the back of Jason’s head and leans in to inspect his face, keeping a steady stream of babble as he looks.

“How’s your head? Did you take the aspirin I left you? Why are you even up, anyway, I left you a note saying to call for me or Alfred if you needed anything, didn’t you see that? Your pupils look kind of weird. Go back to sleep, apparently it’s totally okay to go to sleep when you’ve got a concussion, that’s a lot of late nights that Bruce kept us up that were totally unnecessary, huh?”

“Why do you people keep manhandling me?”

“Cause you’ve got a concussion, little bro.”

 

Nightwing grins and he looks years younger.

“It’s good to have you back.”

 

And really, what can Jason say to that. He looks away from the smiling man. Alright, since evasive maneuvers have failed, it’s time for direct action.

“Yeah, well, thanks and all that, but I’m heading out.”

“Nope, sorry Jay, only place you’re going is back to bed.”

“Seriously. I’m going.”

 

Jason tries to imbue his words with the same steeliness that bends henchmen and street goons to his will, but Nightwing just keeps smiling, and Alfred looks only faintly amused.

“We can discuss this again in the morning, boys, it’s quite late and you should both be in bed.”

“I’m not going back to the room, Alfred.”

 

Before the conversation can escalate into conflict, the sound of footsteps in the hallway draws the attention of all three men.

“Is this a midnight hallway meeting that I’m not invited to?”

 

Batman’s voice is uncharacteristically warm. Alfred turns to him crisply.

“Not so much a meeting, Master Bruce, as a small disagreement. In a stunning reenactment of his eleven year old self, Master Jason refuses to go back to bed.”

 

Bruce frowns, looking over at Jason. Jason stares defiantly back.

“Jason.”

He stiffens. Bruce continues.

 

“Go to bed.”

“No.”

“Go back. To bed. You’ve been injured and it’s the middle of the night.”

“Nope. Not going. I’m heading out, thanks for the hospitality and all that.”

“We can discuss this in the morning.”

“Mm….No.”

 

And with that last statement, Jason ducks around Bruce in a staccato dash. It’s destined to fail. Bruce smoothly reaches out and catches Jason firmly, pinning his arms behind him with a single hand. With his other, he pulls a small syringe and deftly injects Jason in the neck.

The world starts to whirl out of focus, and as he falls unconscious, Jason feels a vague sense of betrayal.

 

_____

  
  


Jason once again flutters his eyes open. He mutters to himself, blinking.

“This is getting ridiculous. I’ve been knocked out more times than all of Batman’s rogues combined.”

 

Except this time Jason woke up in darkness. With an ache in his back, he pushes off what seemed to be an angled medical table, his feet making contact with a stone floor to stand up. Craning his neck, Jason gaze becomes fixated on a singular point of light down a corridor. He hobbles down it’s distance, feeling the jagged walls for guidance.

 

Eventually Jason comes to a threshold and steps into a gigantic cavern filled to the brim with oddities, gadgets, a giant supercomputer, and in the middle of it all, the Batman, who turns to look away from the gigantic computer. Jason scowls.

 

“You fucking tranquilized me.”

“I did what had to be done.” 

 

“Well isn’t that your goddamn catchphrase!” Jason yells back. There it was again. A tinge of nostalgia. A slight twitch in his muscle that told him he’d been here before. He sighs. 

“So? Why’m I down here, instead of upstairs? What did you want to show me?” Jason said with exasperation, his arms waving in the air.

 

“I wanted to show you the cave, Jason.” Batman said with a wave of his hand.

"To see if any this jogs your memory. And maybe to answer some of the questions you have."

 

Jason shrugged.

 

"I don't know Bruce, this all looks like a lot. What do you have for me? Records? Surveillance? What did I do with the last five years of my life? Who the fuck am I?"

Batmans eyes squinted beneath his mask, the whites of his lenses darkening slightly.

"You're my son, Jason. We lost all connection with you the night you disappeared. Trust me, Dick, Barbara and I all stopped at nothing to find you again. We ran facial recognition scans on everyone this side of the hemisphere for 3 years, we took every lead we could in the underbelly of Gotham, we even got the Justice League watchtower put on priority one to find you. The Team even spent a solid three months searching.” The proud man’s back slumped a little, to Jason’s dismay.   
  


“Nothing. For 2 years we believed you dead. That the Joker had killed you.” Batman walked over and knelt down to Jason, one hand on the boy’s shoulder.

 

“I’m sorry Jason. I really am. All of us are. But we found you. We found you, son.” He pulled his mask back to reveal kind blue eyes seated in deep bags. Years of sleep deprivation had taken their toll.

“We found you, son.” The man known as Bruce Wayne, billionaire, orphan, Batman, embraces his second son. Jason hates himself a little for leaning into the hug.

 

Bruce soon stood back up and pulled on his mask.

“I’m going on a patrol soon. You feel up to coming along? It’ll be like old times. Just a quick circuit of the city.” Bruce extended a hand coupled with an slight smile.

 

Not something you see every day. Bruce was making an effort.

Jason considered taking up his offer. He really did. Every fiber of his being wanted to go on a rooftop patrol with the man he considered a father. But something held him back.

  
“Bruce...I’m still feeling kind of out of it. I don’t want to drag you down. I think I’ll just rest up here today. Get myself familiar with the gear again. Maybe go through some simulations with Dick.”

“Alright Jason. Take your time. It’s good to have you back.”

Flashing him a surprisingly bright smile, Batman leapt into the Batmobile and sped off.

 

Jason brushed himself off and stood up. He ran up towards the Batcomputer and tried to log in.

_DNA recognition required_

Jason looked towards a flat black panel which he assumed he would place his finger on.

 

_User recognized:_

_Robin/Jason Todd_

 

To his surprise, Jason’s credentials had not been revoked over the years.

 

_Bruce sometimes tells the truth,_ Jason thought,

_But he never tells the whole truth._

  
Jason didn’t know how or why he knew this. He didn’t know the reason he came to the Batcomputer. He didn’t know what he was looking for.

But he scanned the files on the computer until he saw a black folder labeled

_Red Hood Leads._

Crinkling his brow. Jason clicked on the Black Folder. Opening up, there were digital files of various police reportings.

 

“ _‘Red Hood’ takes out police captain.”_

Tumblers click.

_“Local politician executed by criminal in a Red Helmet.”_

They lock into place as the key slides through.

_“Million dollar heist pulled off by new super-criminal ‘Red Hood’”_

A twist and a turn takes the hinge off.

_“The Red Hood: Has Batman finally met his match?”_

Another click accompanies an opened padlock.

_“Where is Robin now? Batman flying solo again.”_

The door flies open and a dark laugh erupts from the inside.

 

Jason’s eyes widen. Years rush past as memories flood the empty crevices of his mind.

Ragged breaths seize Jason’s lungs, and his chest swells with emotion.

 

Tears well up in the young boy’s eyes and every limb in his body seems to threaten and drag him down.

Laughter and pain echo in the back of his mind as Jason crumpled down on the keyboard.

He  stared at the newspaper clippings on the Batcomputer.

“He knew about this.”

“He’d known all along.”

Jason stood up with a scowl on his face.

 

_And now I know too._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bruce this is not how you deal with your children i s2g.


	3. A Happy Household

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Joker and Harley try to make their own Brady Bunch.

“Hellooooooooo! Puddin’? Lil’ Red? Anyone hooome? I brought piz-za!”

 

Harley’s voice echoes through the warehouse, bright and ringing and cheerful. Red Hood perks his un-helmeted head up from where he had been resting it against the desk. Just taking a mental break, you know, his head ached something awful when he didn’t have a job to do. There’s a running loop of laughter bouncing around his brain.

 

When Mister J gave him a job, everything became clear like crystal. Just him and the mission, nice and simple.

 

“Yeah, I’m in the back room, Dr. Quinzel; Mister J’s out on an errand or something right now.”

 

Harley’s heels click on the concrete as she walks toward the back room of the warehouse which vaguely resembles some combination of an office and a living room. She grins wide when she sees the Red Hood, and he smiles back.

 

“There you are, kiddo. And hon, you know it’s just Harley between you and me. Know if Mistah J’s coming back soon?”

 

“Nope, he didn’t tell me. Didn’t give me a job either.”

 

Red’s whining. He knows this. Harley sashays over and slides the pizza box down next to him on the table. She smooths the hair over his head.

 

“Aw, poor baby, d’you have a headache again?”

 

“Yeah. Can you up my meds again, Harley?”

 

“Nope, sorry kiddo, give your new pills some time to kick in, hm? And have a slice of pizza, I didn’t get meat lovers for myself.”

 

Red smiles.

 

“You got meat lovers? That’s why you’re my favorite. Thanks!”

 

Harley laughs, blue eyes flashing. Red’s maybe got a little bit of a crush on her, but she’s fifteen years older than him, and anyway, she’s Mister J’s girl through and through.

 

_____

 

Thwack!

 

Red Hood deflects the wadded up piece of newspaper that the Joker had thrown at his head, ducking at the same time. You can never tell with the clown, sometimes it’s a knife, sometimes it’s a balloon, all thrown with same manic giggle. Today, thankfully, he’s feeling more playful than sadistic. The Joker grins wide and bright.

 

“Nice reflexes, Red! Harley told me you were getting bored. Gotta job for you.”

 

Red perks up, looking over at the Boss and raising his eyebrows.

 

“Yeah? What is it?”

 

“You gotta go cause some trouble down by the docks. Make some noise! Bash a few heads! And when the bats and birds come calling, ollie out. You got that?”

 

“Yessir, do I leave now?”

 

“Get your hood on and head out, kid.”

 

Red smiles, and picks up his guns. Time to go raise some hell.

__________

 

They run when they see him. The men, the women, the children. He is a faceless nightmare, the Red Hood, brandishing his twin pistols like a gunslinger of old. He does not speak. He smiles beneath his mask and his mind is filled with laughter and light.

 

(Inside, a boy is screaming.)

__________

 

There are good days. Mayhem, laughter, Harley dolling herself up in white facepaint and spandex.  There is the empty peace that Red feels when he pulls the trigger of a gun, when he smashes an elbow into a face.

 

Harley refuses to up his meds, even when he asks, and even when the Joker laughs and says, “Aw, Harls, what’s the worst that could happen?” But she’s got the tracest remnants of medical ethics left in her, and she smiles and refuses.

_________

 

Another day another job done right. Red Hood smiled to himself. He wondered if Harely had gotten any meat lovers today. Hey, a psychotic super-criminal had to have something to look forward too besides wanton destruction.

 

Harley is handcuffed to a pipe and Red Hood walks in seeing her face bloodied and battered. White makeup unevenly spread out with dark purple-greenish bruises.

 

A dark, crooked smile emerged from behind her, shaking from laughter.

“Your poor ol’ Harley’s got herself into a sticky situation, boy blunder.”

The smile moved out from behind the slumped-over harlequin, stepping over her and emerging into the dim lamplight, dirty purple suit and oily unkempt green hair in all.

 

“Hoo boy, you’re in for a whoopin’. Not that I beat my kids mind you, that’s not good parenting at all.” Joker’s self-righteous undertones belied an ominous rumbling.

Like the gathering of clouds before a storm.

 

“But if there’s one thing I’ve learned from our time together boyo, it’s that a household divided can’t stand! Like Abraham Lincoln once said! A union divided cannot stand! Especially if one half of that union, is giving our little birdy here, **_special. Treatment._** ” With each emphasized word, the maniac kicked in Harley’s stomach.

 

Jason snarled and started towards Joker, but one finger in a green glove held itself up to the crooked smile, hushing the boy.

 

Harley awoke with a cough and a choke.

 

“Heya there Red. Sorry you had to see this honey, mommy and daddy are having a sweet little chat right now. Off you go dear, no need to see this.” Harley managed to force out a grin before a fist rammed into her solar plexus.

 

“Shh darling, none of that, none of that. I want the boy to see. To see what happens when you do things **_behind. My. BACK_**.”

 

An elbow follows an ascending knee. With each crack accompanying contact, Jason winced. He knew that Harley couldn’t take much more of this. She wasn’t well. None of them were. But Jason thought this uneasy liferaft could stay floating. Just a while longer. Just as long as that monster didn’t sink it.

 

But Jason knew the waters had come.

 

Harley coughed. She coughed and coughed, and when it seemed like every last ounce of air had been pushed out of her, she coughed some more.

 

And then the blood came.

 

Ruptured arteries Jason assumed. Easy to see from the indents along her ribcage.

 

Jason hated this. The analytical insight he has without warning. The seeming lack of emotion he exudes at certain moments.

 

The calm he feels right now. The calm that comes with certainty.

“What am I so damn sure about?! Harley’s going to die! How can I just look at her being _**beaten to** **death?**  _"

But Jason stayed still. He rode the wave of confidence swelling in his chest for the next few minutes. Everything under control.

 

“Jason m’boy, now don’t think you’re getting off scott-free either! How about you give it the old college try!”

 

Harley craned her neck weakly at Jason.   
  
“It’s okay son, I can take it! Make daddy proud!” Another grin appeared on her ghostly face.

 

This time Joker didn’t bother to take it off.

 

“You heard her Jason old sport, take a whack at it!.”

 

Jason stood his ground.

 

“You know what Red, I’ll make it even easier for you. You don’t even need to get physical! Here catch! HaHA!” Joker giggled as he tossed Jason a handgun.

 

Harley’s eyes widened.

  
“Mistah J, wh-what’s going on? I thought this was gonna be a hands-on kind of thing. Like usual.”

 

“OH Harley my dear, we can’t raise our son without some tragedy can we? He’s had it too easy so far causing chaos to my-I mean his content! We’ll spoil the damn brat!”

 

Joker leaned his face closer to Harley’s, predatory sharp pupils piercing into Harley’s barely conscious stare.

 

“Can’t make a good omelette without breaking a few egg now can we darling?” With a venomous inflection flicking towards the end of his rhetoric, Joker looked at Jason.

 

“Come on, I know you can do it!.”

 

Jason stood.

 

“Come on! Attaboy!”

 

Jason stood.

 

“I’m getting impatient with you sonny! Come on! You don’t want to see Papa J angry.”

 

Jason cocked an eyebrow at the clown.

 

“Well. Sometimes a man’s gotta do things for himself! HAHAHAHAH” Madly laughing, the Joker pulled out a mini-pistol hidden up his sleeve and shot Harley square in the temple..    

 

Jason screamed. He cocked his pistol at Joker and pulled.

 

**_*BANG*_ **

 

And Joker fell. Grin on his face. Eyes as wide as a stark moon against the desert.

 

Alone again.

 

An orphan with a dead family.

 

____

 

There is the ricochet scatter of laughter bouncing and there is an emptiness. There is the hollow scoop of the brain, carved out all psychological-like, fragment, fragment, fragment.

 

There is the memory of a bright white smile and green hair. (There is no memory of a stern jaw and dark cowl).

 

There are the fragmented remains of the last, most repeated, mission.  Cause mayhem. Cause mayhem. Cause mayhem.

 

The Red Hood blinks. Once. Twice. There is a job that cannot be completed while sitting.

 

He stands up, knocking the chair over, and strides over to the door. Jiggles the handle. Locked. He absentmindedly picks up a stray crowbar from the scattered piles of weapons, home-improvement tools, and other miscellany strewn about his feet. Smashes the lock. Once, twice. Kicks the door open.

 

Leaves. Ignores the bodies, seeping blood.

 

Gotham’s new face of the underworld steps out and is engulfed by shadow.

 

_______

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We thought Jason would be a better candidate for the whole "Joker brainwashing" trend that's been happening lately.

**Author's Note:**

> anonymousAlchemist's Tumblr: anonymousAlchemist.tumblr.com  
> PhoDeNguyen's Tumblr: phodenguyen.tumblr.com
> 
> Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed it! Leave a comment/kudos on your way out ;D


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